The Professor
by alexshelton
Summary: The Platform 9 3/4 is filled with students of all ages and their parents, as it always is on the 1st September. They chat excitedly about the upcoming school year. But the new DADA professor sees something else. A motley group of four boys who call themselves the Marauders.


The platform is completely deserted. A big ancient steam engine train stands on the tracks. A lonely man, wrapped in a shabby coat puts his trunk beside him. On the trunk there's a worn inscription made years ago that reads «Moony». The man shudders as the cold September wind blows through his thin coat. Trying to get away from the morning chill, he starts towards the Hogwarts Express but freezes as he reaches the step of the train, forgetting about the cold and the drizzle outside.

He's been refusing the job at Hogwarts for a very long time, making excuses and never giving a direct answer to the Headmaster. Dumbledore was desperate to convince him and almost gave up because he thought that the reason for his refusal had been his illness, his curse. But the old wizard was wrong. It was not the man's illness that made him say no to the generous offer, but his memories. It was too painful, too bitter to remember the fleeting years of happiness that hadn't lasted even a decade. He spent so many years trying to forget everything, to bury those memories forever. To look away and put his hands on his ears in an effort to ignore the once deep rich voice, now hoarse from stress and prolonged exhaustion, calling him that stupid name: "Hey, Moony!". Never see the brown eyes behind those familiar round glasses staring at the blue skies. Eyes that would never close again.

The man in the shabby coat puts his trunk on the red carpet inside the train carriage. Suddenly, he turns his head sharply, peering down the corridor.

_'__Hey, Specks,' a handsome blue-eyed boy offers his hand to the other one with dishevelled hair and glasses. He's wearing a large ring with the letter «B» engraved on it. 'I'm Sirius Black.'_

_'__James Potter. And what's your name?' asks James, glancing at the painfully thin, exhausted-looking boy. The boy in question clutches his school books with his scarred hands even more tightly than before. _

_'__My name's Remus Lupin' he replies dryly. _

_Sirius and James silently decide not to disturb the weird boy with a scarred face. Joyous chatter fills the compartment. It already seems as though the boys had known each other from childhood. They exchange mischievous glances: the plan to get the surly boy talking starts brewing. _

The man shivers at the recollection. He shuts his eyes and shakes his head frantically. He picks up his almost forgotten trunk and enters the first compartment he sees. He grabs his luggage by the handles, throws it on the shelf, and suddenly recoils.

_'__Lads, here's an idea! Here, Prongs, give me your school trunk' the same blue-eyed boy, now a young man in his fifth year at Hogwarts pulls his wand out of the pockets of his black cloak with bright red lining. He waves the wand in an intricate pattern over the other boy's trunk and an inscription starts appearing. It's a bit clumsy and slanting but still readable. «Prongs,» it says on the handle. 'Now, Wormtail, your turn', the Marauder addresses a timid chubby boy sitting on the edge of the couch, by the window._

_'__N-no, Sirius, my parents will kill me! We don't have any money for a new school trunk. What if you burn it? Have you forgotten about my socks? You set them on fire when we were in our Second Year,' he looks at his friend nervously. _

_'__Oh, come on! It only happened once, for Merlin's sake! Even more so, I'm not twelve any more. And I very much doubt that I will confuse a burning spell with the one I invented myself,' having said that, Sirius removes his friend's trunk from the shelf himself, without waiting for anyone's help, and raises his wand over it. _

_'__Where's yours, Padfoot? You didn't have it at the platform, I noticed,' asks the third boy with glasses. _

_'__Mother threw a fit yesterday and sent my things to Hogwarts before me. It's fine, I'll do mine once I get to the dorms,' answered Sirius, feigning indifference. The forth Gryffindor in the carriage with a fresh scar on his face merely shakes his disapprovingly and says nothing. _

The man sits on the couch and raises the coat's collar, hiding his face which bears two long scars. He takes out a battered book. On its front cover, there's a hat with two skinny legs and a hand holding a magic wand that someone drew on it. He lifts his hand to brush a couple of stray crumbs off the table but puts it back in his lap, suddenly extremely tired.

_'__Sirius, James, get your feet off the table! There's still two more years of school left and you'll be the ones riding the dirty train. Don't make me take house points from you, because I'm a prefect now and I won't be coaxed to spare the two of you'._

_'__The great and mighty Moony in his righteous wrath,' the young man who put his feet on the table first responds mockingly to his annoyed friend. Then he takes an old Polaroid camera, his feet still resting in place, and takes a photo of James who mirrors his impudent pose. The only difference between the two boys is that James's feet are now in a red-headed girl's lap, her head on his shoulder. Peter is in the shot, too. He smiles shyly. Remus is still annoyed. He angrily flashes his golden badge with the «P» on it. The camera flashes and a picture appears from it, capturing the moment forever. _

He opens his coat and puts his hand in the hidden inside pocket, taking out a moving photo. There are three young men in it as well as one beautiful girl with auburn hair. The picture is old and battered, just like its owner. He flips the photograph and there's writing on the back, made with the same crooked handwriting as the one on the trunk. «From left to right: Moony (angered by my poor innocent self), Wormtail, Lily (or Flower as one certain bespectacled lad would call her) and Prongs (who's finally put his feet right where they should be). June 1976». He sighs wistfully, puts the photo back in his pocket and gets up to close the door. He doesn't want anyone in his compartment, especially children. He takes the handle but something makes him let it go. The man stares into the hallway instead.

_'__That's it, mates. Our final year at Hogwarts is over. Thank Merlin for that,' James turns to his three best friends who are following him out of the carriage. _

_Sirius smiles slyly: 'Let's make one last prank. The very last mischief by the Marauders of Hogwarts! Wormtail, you in?' Peter nods noncommittally. He trusts his friends. 'Moony?' Remus winces but still agrees. After all, the prefect's badge that's been weighing on his conscience for three years, has been left at school for future generations of prefects. 'Prongs?' _

_'__Kills me you still ask!' James sends his best mate one of those special looks that only the two of them can understand. _

_Having come to a silent agreement, they nod to each other and take their wands out of the pockets. Both are wearing muggle blue jeans, in defiance of proper pureblooded society. The four of them approach the nearest compartment, pull the handle and raise their wands over the exposed wood. _

_«Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs leave their mark on magical history (literally) and beg Professor McGonagall to forgive them their last little prank. Just admit it: you've had famous fun with us! 1971-1978». _

«...fun with us! 1971-1978». The door slams shut, and the man, whose name is Remus Lupin, sits back in his seat and covers his face with his hands in a desperate and maybe cowardly impulse to forget all those years, to erase them from history completely, because what was the point? It all ended in tragedy. Once bright happy memories now bring only pain and sorrow. And Remus has only one question to the Universe. It's been revolving in his mind for nearly thirteen years. 'Why them?'.

Hogwarts Express stands on the Platform 9 3/4, its scarlet carriages, still wet from the morning drizzle, glistening in the sun as if winking at a group of particularly anxious first-year students who arrived way earlier than necessary. But now, the platform, safely hidden from the eyes of muggles, fills with excited young voices that drive away the dark storm clouds from the King's Cross Station, allowing the bright September sun to warm the students and the parents seeing them off.

Four tanned boys are sharing their summer experiences among each other, standing near the train. The lonely man in the shabby coat doesn't notice that they're from the wrong House and they don't have the right hair colour. All he sees is a blue-eyed dark-haired boy, a dishevelled one in glasses, a chubby wallflower and a blonde boy with a scar on his serious, tired face. They're smiling at each other and laughing at an inside joke one of them made. And for a moment, the man feels as though those twenty painful years never existed, there wasn't a devastating war with hundreds of casualties. There was just happiness, with a touch of sadness and longing for summer holidays, and many more years ahead for the four friends before him. He can almost feel their love for each other and a sense of eternity.

The illusion dissipates. Four real boys on the real platform kiss their parents goodbye and run to their classmates already inside the carriages. The man closes his eyes. He thinks about his home, far away from London, where no-one is waiting for him.

The train whistle blows, somehow sorrowfully, as if the old steam engine still remembers the four Marauders who tarnished its compartment but laughed so fervently, infecting everyone around them with mirth. Alas, life goes on. Other children now seat in their place and those four playful Gryffindors will always live in the memory of the lonely man in the shabby coat.

The clock strikes ten and the train starts moving. Clouds of white steam fill the platform. Smiling students wave their parents' goodbye. They feel a bit sad to part with them but at the same time are very excited to once again dive into the world filled with magic and wonder.

It was so ten years ago, twenty years ago, and I want to believe that is will be so. And the Hogwarts Express will always meet new generations on the platform 9 3/4.

'Hey, Hermione, who're Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs?' a red-haired boy asks a curly girl.

'I haven't the slightest idea, Ronald. The one thing I do know is that they ruined school property which is unacceptable,' the girl tuned up her a bit snub nose in displeasure.

'I think I love them already,' a skinny boy with a dishevelled mop of dark hair and green eyes, playfully shining behind his round glasses, smiled happily.

'That's barbaric, that's what it is,' Hermione exclaimed, looking at the scrawled inscription.


End file.
